Broken Wing, Broken Heart
by AndSoIWrote
Summary: I am a Destiel Shipper. That is all.


** Takes place after Season 8, however, no real spoilers are revealed so feel free to enjoy. Thanks for reading!**

His soul scorched with every flame that touched higher into the atmosphere in his mind. He fell motionless beyond his comprehension as he witnessed the abomination before his eyes. The fire, the blood, his brother in his arms; he bared the innocence of the child he was. It was worse than dying when your heart was desensitized from the inside. Whiskey was never enough to mask the pain and render him blind to the truth. He hadn't wanted empathy from anyone. In fact, even as he stood over her tombstone downing his last bottle, thirty years to the day, he still felt the stinging heartache of yesterday.  
A rose he placed earlier in the evening already began to wilt with the thick moisture hanging in the air. He watched it crumble just like everything else in his life.  
The sound of footsteps awoke him from his musings. "Sam, I told you not to follow me." When Sam didn't answer, he turned around hesitantly only to find Cass behind him in his wonted ensemble looking abnormally grim, sharing his remorse.  
"Hello, Dean."  
Dean averted his eyes. Cass already sees him sulking around a graveyard at ungodly hours of the night; the last thing he needed to see was his red, inflamed eyes. He choked back tears and swallowed his pride; he was strong, and would remain that way until the end of his days. "Cass," he greeted roughly. His voice was cracked from talking to an invisible apparition hours earlier. Though she wasn't exactly six feet below where he stood, he knew she was somehow listening.  
"It's unusually warm for November," he stated gruffly, his eyes to the ground.  
Dean sighed, turning to face him sadly. "You know."  
"Well enough, yes," he said ruefully. Even at midnight, he could detect the light fading from his blue eyes.  
"I just miss her, man," he confessed, finally shifting his eyes to Cass's. Cass met them and nodded softly.  
"Why do you suppose I'm here?" he said, his arms opening and falling to his sides.  
"Cass-"  
"Dean, please, I came to pay my respects," he replied. Part of him came to send his regards, the other part wanted to provide security to Dean. He knew Dean better than anyone; he doesn't send an encoded signal as to where he may be next.  
Dean didn't argue and the two of them sat in reverential silence, honoring not only the life of Mary Winchester, but her son's as well.

"Dean, will you at least tell me what's wrong?"

Dean turned his back to Cass, avoiding direct confrontation that could potentially threaten their relationship. Dean remained silent until finally, remorse clouding his better judgment, he stammered: "It just—it's just that—everyone I ever open myself to leave me or wind up dead."

Cass laid his right hand on Dean's bicep; the same hand that raised him from Perdition from what seemed like centuries ago. Dean gazed pitifully behind him at the angel's electric touch and raised his other hand to intertwine his fingers. "I'll never leave you, Dean," he said sincerely. Dean craned his head to see Cass clearer and smiled through his angst, knowing it's what he wanted to see. Though Cass couldn't clearly perceive human emotions, he knew when Dean was feigning his wellness. His eyes no longer held the youthful gleam he favored so, and he never bothered to make straight eye contact. Instead his emerald eyes wandered to the clear world outside of his window that only appeared overcast in his mind. And though he responded to Castiel's inquiries, he wasn't paying much attention to Castiel. It was times like these when he knew he had to step up to the plate and be the bigger man. He prepared himself for possibly the most daring move he would ever make. He wrapped his arms around his taut stomach and leaned his head near the back of his left shoulder, his breath reverberating off Dean's ear. Dean did not falter; he only continued to stare into empty space. Cass stared with him despite his failure to comprehend what he was supposed to be looking at. He would do anything for Dean, even if it meant getting lost inside the depths of his own mind.

Dean turned around leisurely a few seconds later, staring into Cass's shimmering eyes all the while, and moved his free arm to the back of Castiel's head. Cass leaned into Dean's arm like a cat rubbing itself against human skin. He didn't want to argue with Dean, especially when was in such a fragile stage. Dean paused, moving his fingers to the bottom of his chin and tilting it upward to face him. Cass eyed Dean indifferently but managed a small smile on his face. Suddenly, Dean's lips parted and moved for his, and the world around them came to an abrupt halt. His upper lip barely met his bottom when Cass felt a burning sensation in him, like a fire igniting inside his soul. Dean pressed harder, wavering slightly so he could place his tongue on the roof of his mouth. Cass returned the action more hungrily than before, moving his hands to his back and nearly digging his nails into the fabric of his shirt. He moved for the blue tie around his neck and unknotted the silk until removing it completely. Cass, relishing in the adrenaline running through his veins, ran his hands underneath Dean's shirt, moving from his lower back to his shoulder blades before finding the shirt a nuisance and pulling it over his head. Dean grinned in satisfaction, his eyes never leaving Cass's.

He eventually led them to the bed where Dean caressed him down gently. Though new at the whole notion of intimacy, somehow knew he had to unbutton his shirt until Dean took the reins halfway down and began undoing it himself. Cass looked up curiously, wondering why he had stopped with the mouth-to-mouth contact. Dean answered by kissing him raptly again and trailing his lips lazily down his open torso. Cass arched his back in bittersweet delight and grabbed a hold of Dean's back again, which was now wet from perspiration, though he didn't seem to mind. Sudden apprehension filled Cass when Dean moved for his belt. "Trust me," he mumbled softly, "you do trust me?" Cass nodded which Dean took as the consent to remove his pants. Cass leaned back, letting his arms fall to his sides, completely enamored with Dean's abilities. Dean moved his way to Cass, crawling on his knees a few seconds later, glancing at him and then down his jeans as if to say:_ It's okay, you can remove them._ Cass simply countered by pulling him onto his lips again and enfolding his legs over his back. Dean laughed through his mouth before Cass displayed what he was truly capable of by reversing the roles so that he was on top of him. Soon, Dean fall next to him gracefully and breathed silently on his torso, chuckling at the recent turn of events.

Dean ceased his laughing and sank into Cass's chest, weeping soundlessly (for himself or for Cass, he will never know), Cass cradling him in his arms. "Shh," he soothed in a low whisper, "everything will be okay…it will all be okay."

Because somehow, he genuinely knew it would be.


End file.
